


delicate

by thesurielships



Series: 7 Days Writing Challenge [2]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fuckbuddies, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:49:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27126115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesurielships/pseuds/thesurielships
Summary: In answer to a tumblr prompt: "we’re... just friends"
Relationships: Feyre Archeron & Rhysand, Feyre Archeron/Rhysand
Series: 7 Days Writing Challenge [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1978678
Comments: 18
Kudos: 93





	1. Chapter 1

Feyre didn’t understand what Rhysand was so pissed about. They’d just been having a pleasant dinner in their favorite hole in the wall restaurant, celebrating her finishing her first painting after a long hiatus. The ambiance had been lovely, the conversation flowing and the laughter endless. It was all so perfect that she’d pretended not to notice the new waiter’s obvious attempts at flirting with her.

Rhysand had progressively grown more and more restless throughout the evening, up until the waiter executed his finishing move.

His number on a napkin.

She’d let out a forced laugh, reminding herself that this was their favorite restaurant and she could take a couple unwanted advances if it meant keeping this little piece of heaven they both shared.

Two seconds later, Rhys had stormed off the restaurant.

She’d hurriedly followed him, Rita shooing her away and telling her to pay later. She’d found him in the car, and he’d sped off the moment the door was closed.

An awkward ride later, they were in front of her apartment complex.

She got off, thinking he would just drive off, but he climbed off as well.

He joined her on the sidewalk, and finally he spoke.

“So… will you call him?”

She crossed her arms defensively. “And what if I do?”

Maybe if this had been a year earlier, she wouldn’t have noticed the small dent in his cheek where he must be unconsciously biting it. Maybe then she would have believed him to be as impassive as he pretended to be.

“Rhys…” she hesitated to voice the sneaking suspicion she’d been rejecting the entire drive home. “Are you jealous?”

He didn’t answer.

“Rhys,” her exasperation was evident in her voice. “We’re just… friends.”

“Friends?”

She merely nodded.

“Friends.”

He huffed a bitter laugh, aggressively running his hand through his hair so it stuck up in every direction.

An image came to her mind, completely unbidden.

_Rhysand’s face between her legs, a self-satisfied smile on his lips, a mischievous look in his eyes and an utter mess of hair on his head._

She blinked the image away, staring at the current Rhysand under the streetlight in front of her house.

_The same streetlight they’d made out against more times than she could count._

His jaw was set, his muscles were taut, his hands were shaking with barely repressed fury.

She had never seen Rhys so angry.

“Sure.” He shrugged. “We’re friends,” he said the word with so much derision that she flinched. Something like hurt flashed through his eyes, so quickly she almost thought she’d imagined it. “Friends who fuck each other every other night, who wake up tangled in each other’s arms, who kiss each other good morning and good night, who –“

“That was the agreement,” Feyre interrupted, her blood starting to boil. “We agreed on this from day one, Rhysand. Just sex.”

“The agreement,” he repeated, his eyes sparking. “Because the high and mighty Feyre Archeron would never break the rules she set for herself. You’re just so perfect, aren’t you?”

Feyre had never been so angry, either.

“The definition of an agreement, Rhysand darling,” she practically spat the endearment in his face, “is that both people agreed. You were as much part of that decision as me. It’s what you wanted, so don’t go blaming your change of heart on me.”

He put his hands in his pockets, nodding vehemently. “Yes. Yes. You’re right. I can’t blame you for my own foolishness, after all. I should’ve known being fuck buddies with the girl I love would only lead to disaster.”

Feyre’s heart sputtered to a stop. “Love?”

“Yes, _love_.” He threw his arms up. “I am so fucking in love with you; I don’t even know what to do with myself anymore. You’re on my mind 24/7. I look forward to seeing you all day long and I miss you the moment you’re out the door. Why? Does this terrify you, Feyre darling? Is the notion of having _me_ love you too much to fathom?”

Feyre’s world tilted on its axis.

No, no, _no_. This was all wrong. She could feel a wave of nausea and hysterical laughter bubbling up her throat. Rhysand was looking at her expectantly, but she couldn’t speak, couldn’t even _think_ -

The silence stretched between them, long and taut.

All the anger seemed to drain out of him at once. His face went blank, his shoulders slumped and though he tried to summon his usual arrogant self, the overall impression remained flat. In contrast to the Rhys who always shone brighter than the stars themselves, he seemed… dim.

Feyre’s throat was thick as she watched him turn away from her, his steps heavy as he lumbered to his car. He climbed in and put the keys in the ignition.

She waited for him to leave but he didn’t.

His gaze was fixed straight ahead, resolutely avoiding her.

And yet she couldn’t look away.

Many long heartbeats later, his eyes finally met hers.

Something foreign and strange bloomed in her chest.

Her heart began an unfamiliar dance to music only it could hear.

She willed her feet to move, to take her away, away, away from this life altering moment, from these new emotions that were threatening to swallow her whole.

Eventually, they did.

She strode to the doors of her building, Rhys’s gaze a burning brand on her back.

She didn’t stop until she was in her apartment, the door locked, the lights on.

Only then did the engine down on the street come to life, the wind wafting in through the open windows carrying its sound long after it was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: “I didn’t think it was possible to love someone this much.”

Two weeks had passed since Feyre had last seen Rhys. At least, physically. He’d been haunting her every thought since then, appearing everywhere she went.

In the morning, she would wake to the beautiful piano melody from the alarm clock he had gifted her for her birthday, reaching for a body that wasn’t there.

On her way to the train station, she would see an interesting person and would reflexively nudge the air beside her, a made up life story dying on her lips.

After classes, her friends would teasingly ask her where her loyal puppy of a boyfriend was and if there was trouble in heaven.

At lunch, she would just skip eating, afraid to meet him in the cafeteria and too heartsick to go to Rita’s.

In the afternoon, she would walk home under the setting sun, staring forlornly at her lone shadow.

At night, she would cuddle up in bed, wrapped in a blanket that still smelled like him, drinking their favorite herbal tea and watching their favorite show. At midnight the alarm clock would ping to remind her to go to bed.

Then she would toss and turn for hours, realizing that sleep was never elusive when she was in Rhys’s arms, and wondering when he had incrusted herself so deeply in her life, when he had stopped being a distraction and had become a part of her soul.

Tonight, she gave up on sleeping, choosing instead to sit on her balcony and watch the night sky. Staring at the stars was her only comfort, these days.

Her phone rang and her heart skipped a beat at the name that flashed on the screen.

Rhysand

He had always complained about it, pouting about the fact that everybody else on her contact list had a nickname, unaware of how much she liked how the syllables of his full name tasted on her tongue.

She stared at the screen, alarm blaring through her senses when she saw it was 2am.

“Hello?”

“Feyre, darling.”

A wave of longing hit her when she heard his voice, she barely managed to hold back a sob.

“I knew you would still be awake.”

His words were slurred, yet he still managed to keep his grammar perfect. He was a perfectionist, her Rhysand.

She almost hit herself for that thought.

“How?” her voice was strangled as she fought back her tears, and he must have been even more drunk than she originally thought for him not to notice.

“You told me not to blame you, but I know you must be blaming yourself. I put you in an awkward position.”

She swallowed thickly.

“I know I should stop. I know you don’t feel that way about me, and I know you are still healing from your previous relationship and are not ready for anything right now. I know all that, and yet I cannot stop myself from telling you I love you.”

The shock factor sure had not diminished.

He let out a sudden laugh and she almost jumped out of her skin, thinking she had said it aloud.

“I mean, I know I told you already. But for the past two weeks, I’ve only been thinking of how I said it like an accusation. As if it was a curse you cast on me, and I hated you for it.”

There was no stopping Feyre’s tears anymore.

“But that’s not true,” his voice cracked, and she thought that maybe he was crying too. “Falling in love with you was the best thing that ever happened to me. I never even thought I could love someone this much.” He cleared his throat. “You probably don’t know this, but I think I fell for you the moment you spilled coffee on my shirt and looked at me with those beautiful bright blue eyes. Have I ever told you that you have beautiful eyes?”

She shook her head no, even if he couldn’t see it.

“You then said wow. Remember?” he laughed, and this time he sounded pretty pleased with himself. “I know I look good,” Feyre rolled her eyes even as she bit back a smile, “but damn, I had never felt so hot, pun intended.”

Feyre remembered. He had been and still was the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

“I said ‘like what you see?’ and you snapped back unapologetically ‘I meant the mess.’”

Feyre felt a blush creep up her neck. Oh, she had been shameless.

“Do you still have that shirt, darling?”

The purr in his voice set her senses aflame.

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Good, because I would love to fuck you in that shirt.”

Feyre’s core throbbed. “Rhys –“

“Oh, shit. Sorry, darling. I’m a little tipsy, is all.”

He was more than a little tipsy if his ‘is all’ was coming out.

“Rhysand,” Mor’s voice sounded on the other line of the phone. “Oh my God,” her voice was panicked. “Who are you –“

“Anyway,” Rhysand said urgently. “Just wanted to say that I love you. And I love that I love you. And it’s okay that you don’t love me back.”

And the line went dead.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: “so, we’re just going to ignore the fact that you drunk-dialed me to tell me you love me?”

It took Feyre more time than she would admit to gather her nerve after she made her decision. In fact, she’d been surprised to find that her heart had long made up its mind; she had just always lacked the courage to face it.

Even now, standing in front of Rhys’s door, a finger on the doorbell; she had half a mind to run for the woods and hide some more.

Before she did just that, she pressed the bell and the same melody that woke her up every morning resonated behind the door. She took a deep breath, trying in vain to soothe her jittery nerves.

The door remained closed.

Refusing to be discouraged, she rang the bell again. She crossed her arms, then on second thought uncrossed them so he could see the coffee stain on her – his – otherwise immaculate white shirt, hoping her dress choice would get her message across if her words failed her.

What felt like an eternity later, the door was thrown wide, a frowning Rhysand opening his mouth then closing it when his eyes fell on her.

“Hi,” she managed to say through the lump in her throat.

“Hey,” he replied, his face blank.

Her heart somersaulted at the sound of his voice, her throat constricting so tightly it hurt. His hair had grown longer, she noted; his bangs now brushed his eyes. He hadn’t shaved this morning, and she longed to caress his stubble covered cheeks. Her eyes ventured lower, noticing the old knitted Christmas-y sweater she had never seen him wear, the baggy sweatpants and the mismatched socks.

When she made her way back to his face, he was cocking an eyebrow, silently defying her to comment on his attire.

She almost smiled.

“Rhysand,” she began, her voice echoing in the empty hallway.

His expression remained shuttered, and Feyre fought the urge to ramble. She searched his eyes for something, anything to give her courage, but she found none.

She figured this was something she had to do on her own.

“Rhysand,” she repeated, swallowing the dryness in her mouth.

“Adding insult to injury,” he drawled, and a hint of that familiar smirk alighted on his lips.

Feyre’s heart sped up, hope kindling in her gut.

“Let’s date.”

Silence. A deafening silence stretched like a yawning chasm between them, but Feyre stood tall. She squared her shoulders and repeated in a firm voice, “Let’s date, Rhysand.”

He still seemed wary, but his eyes sparkled alive.

“I know, and you know, that I am still healing from my relationship with Tamlin. The break-up hurt me so thoroughly; it shattered my heart into a million little pieces that I thought I would never be able to piece back together. I thought I would never be able to love again.”

She took an unsteady breath.

“But I was wrong.I was so, so wrong. I… I am a lot further down the healing journey than I originally thought. Thanks to you.”

She didn’t think Rhys was breathing.

She took a step closer, gathering her nerve for one last time.

“I love you, Rhys. I am broken and healing, but every piece of my heart belongs to you. Hell, you are the glue holding them together.”

“Feyre –“

“I love you,” she interrupted him, desperate to convey everything she was feeling before her words ran out. “I love you so fucking much I don’t know what to do with myself. The past few weeks have been so miserable. I used to be scared of relationships, but now I am scared of being without you. So I want to give it a try, with you. I don’t mind if you break my heart as long as you’re there to piece it together again. I just… I want to be with you, if you’ll have me.”

Rhys was still silent, his jaw slack. His eyes were gobbling her up, foraging her own eyes for the truth, and she laid herself bare to his gaze.

Seconds passed and her heart fell; maybe she had been too late –

But then Rhys’s lips were on hers, her fingers deep in his hair. He was hugging her so tightly that her feet lifted off the floor. She sighed when her tongue tasted his, her moans inappropriately loud in the public hallway, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

She had missed this, missed _him_.

A throat cleared, breaking them out of their daze. He gently put her down on the floor but she refused to let him go, clasping her arms behind his neck and laying her head against his chest.

“I leave you guys alone for two seconds and you start confessing your love for each other,” Mor’s voice was infinitely amused, and Feyre knew the teasing would be endless.

Rhys’s chuckle reverberated against her chest, and she closed her eyes, basking in his closeness.

“Feyre is too far gone to greet her best friend,” Mor went on, “and I don’t think you’re in much better shape, cousin.”

“Go away,” he rumbled.

“What a rude thing to say to someone who just bought you groceries,” Mor sighed exaggeratedly. “Nonetheless, I’ll leave you two lovebirds be.”

Feyre heard the thud of something heavy dropping on the ground, then the retreating click of Mor’s heels on the tiled floor.

“I call dibs on being godmother,” she called out before the doors of the elevator closed behind her.

Feyre hid her giddy smile in Rhys’s sweater.

“So…” he began, and Feyre braced herself. “That shirt is quite the statement.”

She bit her lip. “So…” she imitated his pause, “we’re just going to ignore the fact that you drunk dialed me to tell me you love me?”

He scoffed, gently rocking her back and forth. “Like it was news to you at that point.”

She rested her chin on his chest so she could meet his gaze. “I think it’ll always feel like news to me.”

His eyes softened and he dropped a gentle kiss against her lips. “I love you, Feyre darling.”

But Feyre wasn’t in the mood for gentle. She practically pounced on him, devouring his mouth with the intensity of a starved woman.

He smiled against her lips. “Now,” he purred in between kisses, “about that shirt…”

**********

The next morning, when they grabbed breakfast at Rita’s, Feyre tipped the new waiter handsomely. She also made sure to administrate a healthy dose of PDA on a very willing Rhysand, just so he wouldn’t get any ideas.

She now had a boyfriend, after all.


End file.
